


Down and Dirty

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: A request, F/M, I don't know man, bucky's a perverted gardener, what do you expect from me?, you're a lonely housewife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 21:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18881686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Bucky is tired of just watching.This is dark!Bucky and explicit. 18+ only. Includes non/dubcon sex (emphasis on noncon).





	Down and Dirty

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this as a request for Meaganottiz02 on tumblr. It's just a random little idea inspired by her request so I hope you guys enjoy. As usual, mind the warnings and let me know what you think in the comments. :D

****

It was the same scene as every morning. She kissed his cheek and wished him a good day.  _‘Love you’, ‘Love you too’._ The exchange was more habit than true sentiment. At least, that was what it seemed to Bucky. He couldn’t remember when he had taken to observing the couple. At first, they had merely been a pillar in his daily routine but it wasn’t long before the speck in the corner of his eye became a fixation. He would stop across the street, sitting on the bench book-ended by bushes. They never noticed him there. They couldn’t really see him as he swigged from his water and watched. But he noticed them. He noticed  _her._

On this morning, he wasn’t in his sneakers and shorts.  _No, he was prepared._  He watched as the man bid his farewell and climbed into his SUV. She stayed in the doorway, leaned against the frame as she watched him depart. On Mondays, she would leave at noon for groceries, Tuesdays she would meet with a friend for coffee, other chores would be spontaneously tended to throughout the week. Some days, she didn’t emerge at all. He had seen her through the window once. She was at a desk typing. After he had secreted some mail away, he found that she worked from home. And her name was Y/N. He had learned her husband’s name too. That one made him frown.

It was a Friday. Her husband would stay late at the office and she’d be inside until the afternoon. The door closed and brought him back to earth. He sat in a van and waited, counting down the hour on his watch. When enough time had passed, he’d climbed out and took the clipboard from beside him. He crossed the street and pulled the monikered cap over his dark hair;  _Buchanan’s Gardens_. It was easy enough to walk into the mall and have the hat printed; and the shirt. He was quite convincing with his dirty jeans and worker’s van. He had ‘borrowed’ it from a local company, but they wouldn’t notice before he was done.

He strolled up to her door and squared his shoulders. He cleared his throat before he knocked. Be casual; smile. She was friendly enough. Naive, he could tell. The smile came easy as he thought about her. About what he would do to her. He exhaled as he heard her just behind the door. The handle turned and he gripped his clipboard tight. She greeted him brightly. This would be too easy.

-

You opened the door. You weren’t expecting company. That was plain enough by your yoga pants and loose tank. Your plan had been to stick yourself to your desk and write. The man before you wore a green cap and matching tee. A long brace stretched down his arm, a glove at the end. He smiled at you as you bid him good morning, confused at his presence on your doorstep. His dark hair was pulled back in a low ponytail beneath his hat. His blue eyes sparkled.

“Hi, uh, I’m here to do your yard,” He said.

“I think you might have the wrong house,” You glanced past him, a white van across the street.

“No, this is the address I have here,” He looked at his clipboard, “A Mr. Daniel [last name].”

“Oh...oh,” You thought, a finger on your chin, “Shoot, sorry. He must’ve forgot to tell me.” You paused as you stared up at him. His eyes hadn’t left you once. “Well, um, I guess you can get started. Was there anything you need from me?”

“Just a signature, Mrs. [last name],” He handed you the clipboard and you took it, scribbling your name on the line.

“Y/N,” You gave him your first name. You hated being called missus.

“Alright,” He took back the board and pen, “I’ll get going. I’m James, by the way.” He stepped back off the front step, “I’ll try not to make too much noise.”

You watched him as he retreated down the walk. You tried to recall if Daniel had mentioned a gardener to you. He might have. You had been quite distracted by your deadline as of late. He had never hired one before but he had suggested one last summer. As much for his own sake as your own. Neither of you seemed to have the time for the yard anymore, barely for each other. You closed the door and shrugged to the empty house. You really needed to start listening.

You went back to your desk and drank the last of your cold coffee. At noon you’d refill your mug and take a short break. You tried to bribe yourself by setting little treats for yourself. If you kept at it, you’d have at least half your work done by then and be able to breathe easier. You could hear the gardener in the yard, tools being unpacked, followed shortly by the roar of a mower. It made you feel slightly less alone in the big house. Your work had grown tedious as you hadn’t even company to look forward to when it was done. Daniel was never home on time these days.

When noon rolled around, or rather quarter after, you finished your paragraph and stood from the leather office chair. You stretched and grabbed your mug. You walked to the kitchen, the smell of fresh cut grass wafted in. You filled the coffee machine and hit brew, looking out the broad window to the backyard. Your lips parted and you tore your eyes away guiltily as you met an unexpected sight. The gardener was shirtless, wiping away the sweat on his forehead as he gazed out over the yard. The sleeve, or rather brace, was still on his arm and the glove remained. You wondered what injury called for such an extensive cover.

You cleared your throat and listened to the chortle of the percolator as it drained into your mug.  _Should you offer him some water?_ It was rather hot out today. That was something normal housewives did,  _right?_ You weren’t really sure but you also didn’t want to be a bitch. You chewed the inside of your lip as the coffee machine hushed. You pulled the plastic pitcher you used for barbecues from the cupboard and a single glass from the cupboard. You filled the jug from the dispenser on the fridge and set off to achieve your generous task. It would at least make you feel less awkward about having the stranger working in your yard.

You ambled out the back door, almost smacking yourself with it. The screen door shut noisily behind you and you set the pitcher and glass on the patio table on the square of pavement just outside. The gardener, James, looked over and you waved. “Hey, I, uh, thought maybe you’d be thirsty.” You said nervously, “I’ll just leave this here.”

“Oh,” He began towards you, a pair of trimmers in his hand. “Thanks.” His muscled torso glistened in the sun as he came nearer, “That’s nice.”

“Yeah, uh, no problem,” You retreated, nervous at how your eyes were drawn away from his face. How his never left you at all. He had a way of looking at you which made you want to squirm. You smiled and excused yourself back inside before it could grow anymore awkward.  _Work_. That was what you should be thinking of.

You added milk to your coffee and went back to your desk. After tapping on it a couple dozen times, you set your head straight and set to work. The words were no easier but your obstinacy had only grown as you reprimanded yourself for being so easily distracted. After a while, it was a bit smoother, the strong coffee clearing your head enough to keep your fingers working. The drone of your Spotify helped as the melodies carried your focus and it seemed like you might actually meet your deadline.

-

Bucky looked in the window just at the side of the house. From here he could see into the small office where the woman worked away. The back of her chair rocked with her intermittent movement as she swiveled here and there for a sip from her mug or leaned back to think. He smiled as he thought of the look on her face as he had approached her. Her thoughts had been written plain enough across her forehead. Despite herself, despite her husband, she had stared at his bare torso and fled as if she would soon reach out to touch him.

And the water had been much needed. He had actually been working on the yard and the sun was fucking torrid. The more he thought of her, the hotter he got. That definitely didn’t help. He stepped away from the window and walked the perimeter of the house. He took the pitcher and dumped the rest of the water in the hedges. He grabbed the glass and approached the back door she had failed to lock. If she heard him enter, he could use the excuse of returning her dishes. If she didn’t, well he’d be upon her before she knew it.

With one arm holding pitcher and glass to his chest, he used his free hand to slowly press the button of the screen door. He pulled it open carefully, the spring made a slight whoosh but not nearly loud enough to betray him. He let the screen fall against his back and turned the handle to the inside door, invading the palatial home without notice. He shut both with as little fanfare, letting out a breath of relief. He listened closely as he crossed to the counter and set down the pitcher and glass gently. Music floated on the air from another room but there were no footsteps coming to discover him.  _Perfect._

He followed the music down the hallway towards the small office where he had spied her. She was as she had been a moment ago. Her elbow on the desk as she stared at the screen desperately. He crept into the doorway, she didn’t move. He peeled the sleeve from his arm, bundling it up in the glove and setting it on the table just inside the door. He inhaled quietly and tiptoed nearer, still she didn’t look back or turn around. 

He froze when she sat up and leaned back heavily against the chair. He swallowed as she cursed under her breath. Still, she didn’t sense his presence. This was it. He smirked at her obliviousness. He was already growing hard as he stood just behind her chair. She was in his trap now and he wasn’t going to let her go.

-

You leaned back in your chair and swore. This wasn’t making sense anymore. You shook your head and closed your eyes. You just needed a moment to think. But it wasn’t to be. You felt something around your throat, the grip stifled your yipe. You grasped at the hand with yours, clawing at the unusual metal fingers. You were forced to stand from the chair as the hand dragged you around and you came to face the gardener.

He no longer wore the long sleeve. You stared at his arm, metal platelets engineered in the perfect mimic of a real limb. You were so confused and you hadn’t the breath to question him. Instead, your eyes widened and your fingers wrapped around his wrist in a silent plea. He smirked and brought his other hand up, a single finger over his lips. He shushed you, his grip around your throat lessening just slightly. You nodded and he let go completely.

“I’d like to see the bedroom,” He said evenly. As if it was a normal request; as if he hadn’t just tried to choked you out.

You gulped and nodded again, still struggling to find words. You motioned to the door behind him and he grabbed your upper arm, angling you out before him. You led him down the hallway and upstairs as he clung to you. You stopped before the door frame and pointed inside. Perhaps he was looking for money; maybe he thought you had a safe in there. 

“There isn’t much. A few pieces of jewelry I inherited. Maybe something in my husband’s sock drawer…”

“Go,” He pointed inside. You looked from him to the door. His expression was dangerous as he waited. You stepped inside and he followed you closely. The door shut behind him with a deafening click. “Is this where he fucks you?” He neared the bed, looking down at it as if appraising it, “Does he fuck you at all?” You were shocked by his question. Your hand went to your throat where the shadow of his fingers lingered and he turned back to you. He was grinning. “You haven’t tried to scream. Why’s that?”

You swallowed and cleared your throat. You could barely find your voice. “What do you want?”

“Not your ancient jewelry, don’t worry about that,” He glanced once more about the room. You peeked over your shoulder at the door and he chuckled. “I’ll catch you. And if you do find it in yourself to scream, I’ll just find something to gag you…” He walked to the dresser and slid open the top drawer, “Maybe these?” He held up a pair of pink panties you had been saving for a special occasion. Over a year now.

Your shoulders dropped and you sighed. His casual demeanour was unsettling. You watched as he pulled the elastic from his hair and dropped it on your dresser. He ran his fingers through his thick brown locks and turned to the window. “Do you think the neighbours would like a show? All these suburban housewives could use a little scandal.”

You looked down at your hands. They were shaking and clinging to the hem of your loose tee. “My husband will be home soon.”

“No, he won’t,” He spun back to you. “It’s Friday. He’ll be at the office till what? Eight, at least.” He crossed to the bed and sat at the foot. “Do you think he’s fucking someone else or is he really that much of a corporate schmo?”

He had asked the question you’d been refusing to ask for the last few month. You looked up at him with all the fury you had harboured towards Daniel. “What do you know?”

“I know that he’s never home. I know you kiss him goodbye every morning and he barely notices. I know you’re always here alone,” He ran his tongue over his lip, “Which is why I’m here.”

“I’d rather be alone,” You muttered.

“That’s the thing. I don’t care if you love him. I don’t care if you’d rather spend your life in this hellish suburbia,” He rubbed his thigh as he spoke, “I don’t even care if you want to fuck me, because it’s not your choice...It’s what’s good for you, even if you don’t know it yet.”

“I’ll call the cops,” You hissed.

“Go ahead, lots of women call them to cover up their affairs when their husbands find out,” He laughed darkly, “A housewife fucking the gardener isn’t uncommon. And Daniel, you think he’ll really believe you. ‘Some man came by and did the yard then he just forced himself on me...plausible, really.’” 

You stared at him silently, your eyes trailed down to his metal arm. Neither Daniel or the police would buy the whole man with the metal arm spiel,  _would they?_  

“Come here.” He ordered suddenly, drawing you from your inner dialogue. You shakily stepped forward, your legs almost giving out. You were numb as you stopped before him and his eyes swept the length of your body. “Why don’t you go put on those panties?” He smiled, his fingers walking along your hip as he nodded to the adjoining bathroom, “You should wear them at least once.” He leaned back on his hands and stared up at you, “ _Just_ the panties.”

Your jaw squared and you slowly backed away. You crossed to the dresser and reached in the drawer to retrieve the same pink pair of panties. You bundled them up in your hand and glanced at him, hoping for some foolish reason that he would crack and call it all a joke. He didn’t. You hung your head and dragged yourself into the bathroom. You closed the door and undressed, scoffing at your own naivety.  _Why bother?_  You were just going to walk out in less than a napkin worth of clothing.

Your clothes were piled in the corner and you stared in the mirror. You pulled on the panties as you held your own gaze in the mirror. You didn’t know what made you more sad; that this was happening or the shell of your marriage as it shattered before you. In nothing but the hot pink lace, you opened the door and stepped out. An audible gasp escaped your lips as James laid across your bed naked. His arms were bent behind his head and his cock stood without shame.

“Ooh,” He tilted his head up to watch you enter, “You look nice.” He bit his lip, “Better than I imagined.”

You were tempted to cover yourself but everything felt so futile. He had you cornered. You couldn’t believe you had fallen for his whole act. Maybe something inside of you had wanted to believe he was honest. You wanted to be the housewife romanticizing her gardener but not truly acting on it. Thinking of him when Daniel touched you.  _Ha, when was the last time he did that?_

“While I enjoy the view, I didn’t come here just to look,” James said. “Just right here.” He pointed between his spread legs. You walked over reluctantly and crawled up on the bed, on your knees as he had directed you. “Do you suck his cock?” He asked, his hand frame the base of his shaft.

You closed your eyes and answered quietly. “Yes.”

“Do you like it?” He prodded further.

You breathed out and forced your eyes open. You looked at him boldly. He had you at his every whim but he didn’t need to see you so weak. “No. But I haven’t had to worry about that lately.”

He nodded and thought, his tongue poking at his cheek from the inside. He pushed aside the pillows so that he laid entirely flat. “So, you don’t have to do that then. Panties off.” He patted his chest, “Up here, I guarantee you’ll enjoy this.”

Your heart clutched. You had only done that with Daniel a few times. He wasn’t really into that. Sure, he had gone down on you but he had lost vigour for that long ago and he hated when you were on top. You stared at this stranger in your husband’s place and the impatience flashed in his eyes. You moved as if your body was filled with sand. You tugged your panties off and he grabbed them from you, burying his nose in them as he watched you. He let the lacy underwear fall beside his head.

As you climbed over him, your knees on either side of his head, he helped you, hands on your hips as he guided you. He pulled you forward and down until you could feel his breath on your pussy. He flicked his tongue up along your folds and you gripped the headboard above him. He urged you lower until your legs were folded entirely. His mouth was snug to you as he began to lap, the sensation of his tongue made you shiver. You stared at the ring on your finger.

As the swirls began to ripple along your thighs, you moaned. The little noise marked your last nerve. The pleasure spilled over and you surrendered as you tilted your pelvis, grinding into his face as you longed for more. As you rocked your hips into his face, his hands gripped your thighs and yours slipped down to the waves of hair around his head.  _What were you doing?_  It didn’t matter; it felt so good.

Your head hung back and you chased the orgasm. You cried out as it grew closer and closer until finally it rung from you in a triumphant roar. You were panting, your pelvis slowed, and you dropped your head forward as you untangled your fingers from his hair. His blue eyes watched you and you shakily removed yourself from him. Your hand went to your forehead as the shame bloomed in your chest.

“Ah,” He sat up and caught your arm, “You don’t think that’s all, do you?” He licked his shiny lips exaggeratedly and pulled you to him. He sat against the headboard and drew you onto his lap. He gripped his cock and lined it up with your entrance as you pushed on his shoulders, trying to keep yourself from him. “Fuck, girl, you’re a hell of rider. Don’t tell me you’re all tired out.”

He said the last word harshly as his hands moved to your hips and he forced you down. As he impaled you, a yelp escaped your throat. He smirked and continued to guide you, bottoming out with a growl. His metal hand trailed up your spine and his other gripped your hip, thumb pressing painfully on the bone. 

“Trust me,” His tone was low and sinister, “You don’t want me on top...Not right away..”

Your walls twitched around him and you hesitantly lifted your pelvis, sliding up and down his cock. His hand on your hip kept you moving and you let him lead you. Even so, it was your strength thrusting you up and down and a heat was building once more. He was bigger than Daniel. The thought sent a tremble through you but not one of guilt. It was pure lust. 

You looked down at his cock as you rode him; the sight made you murmur. He felt so good inside of you. You felt so full. Without thinking, you latched onto his shoulders and sped up. He groaned and his hands went to your tits, thumbs circling your nipples as he kneaded them.

“Your husband’s a fucking idiot,” He said duskily, “A fucking lucky idiot. If you were my wife, this would be us every--ugh--fucking---ugh, day,” His voice sputtered as you grinded on top of him, “All fucking day. I swear.”

You were breathing heavily as your hands slid down to his chest, palms flat to his firm pecks as you came a second time. You didn’t know if it was the rare touch of another or his words, but it had entirely undone you. This stranger wanted you more than your own husband. You didn’t have much time to ponder your confused orgasm as James’ hands were on your hips again and you were being tipped onto your back.

He never left you, instead he took the reins and thrust into you as you laid with legs bent around him. His knees came up around your ass as he fucked you relentlessly. He pushed his hands beneath your back and his fingers hooked around your shoulders as he held you down. He hammered into you as you let yourself whine. You were cumming again, tugging at your own hair as the storm swept you away.

“Fuck, I’m about to cum,” He rasped, “Fuck, fuck.” He pulled out, his warmth unraveling from around your body and you watched him sit back on his heels and cum on the duvet. Your chest rose and fell in tandem with his; deep, unnerving breaths. He smiled as he met your gaze, “I bet he won’t even notice.”


End file.
